


Untitled Post-Detour fic

by i_gaze_at_scully



Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-09-06 19:25:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16838893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_gaze_at_scully/pseuds/i_gaze_at_scully
Summary: My very first published fic! I am slowly transferring everything to ao3 from tumblr (@i-gaze-at-scully), so forgive any formatting issues.





	Untitled Post-Detour fic

Scully can’t believe what she’s about to do, but at the same time it feels as natural as breathing. She’s secretly quite relieved to have gotten out of that team building conference. As she’s gathering up the silver platter she’s thinking about what she really wants out of this night. Mulder is her best friend, and a lot more than that if she’s being honest with herself. When do they ever have the chance or the courage to spend time together outside of work? Their worlds revolve around chasing or running away from monsters, out in the world or in their own minds. Normal people, normal friends get drunk off cheap wine in shitty motels. That’s what she thinks she really wants out of tonight. She double checks her hair in the mirror. She double checks her intentions.

Maybe a little more would be nice. It’s been what, five years now? There’s an undeniable tension there. When he’d leaned in close in the car to whisper disdain in her ear, she’d be lying to herself if she said the sensation didn’t light her up. A million other things she wanted him to whisper in her ear came to mind. She just hoped it didn’t show on her face. Maybe she’s not looking for a revelation tonight, but a way to break that tension.

Maybe. She hasn’t made up her mind.

She knocks on his door.

“It’s open.” Of course it is. With all Mulder’s been through, you’d think the man would lock his motel doors. But he almost never does.

Scully comes in with the platter in one hand and a playful gleam in her eye. She feels silly for a moment, but Mulder smiles and throws playful right back at her.

“Who cut the cheese?”

“Since you won’t be making it to the conference,” she says, shutting the door behind her and double checking that this is okay. She receives no protest, so she makes for the bed. She’s a lot more at ease now, comfortable in their banter. Mulder’s response brings a smile to her lips.

Swiveling in his chair to face her near the bed, he says “Partayy.” It’s casual. It’s fun. She’s fun. She surprises herself with what comes out of her mouth next.

“However I must remind you that this goes against the Bureau’s policy of male and female agents consorting in the same motel room while on assignment.”

Where the hell did that come from? She’s opening the wine absentmindedly and marveling at how low and gravelly her voice had gotten there.

“Try any of that tail hook crap on me Scully and I’ll kick your ass.”

He’s playing the game; he always does. Doesn’t mean much, but she was right about it being as natural as breathing. She loosens up pouring the wine.

“Pop quiz: what animal will attack the strongest leaving the weakest to escape?”

…No. Oh Mulder. She looks up from the wine, though not at him, and mentally prepares herself for what’s coming next. When he starts outlining theories for something she didn’t even know was a case, she knows it’s over. He walks out and she raises a glass in disappointment and frustration. She downs the whole glass and gathers up the tray. Could she go after him to investigate his hunch together? Sure. But why waste the wine?

Before she can make it out the door, he comes back in.

“Forget something?”

Scully remains by the desk with the tray in her hand the way she’d come in, her playful gleam replaced by exasperation.

“Let’s build a tower, Scully.” He takes a step forward and gingerly takes the tray from her hand and sets it on the desk. He refills her empty glass and takes one himself, holding hers out. She hesitantly takes it, eyes searching.

“What happened to that thing you had to check out?”

He clinks her glass and pulls out the desk chair, motioning for her to sit. “There are other things I’d like to check out tonight.” Her eyebrow arches on muscle memory.

He’s really playing ball now, and she’s not sure how to proceed. She sits and he disappears from her sight for a moment, glass in hand. She hears it clunk down on the bedside table and turns. It’s empty, and Mulder’s taken off his jacket. He’s surveying the room.

“You know, on second thought, we’ll probably need that chair for the base. And if we’re really gonna do this, you’ll need to take off your jacket.”

Scully hasn’t said a word, but takes a sip from her glass and stands up. He’s at her side in a stride, putting her glass down for her and helping her out of her jacket. “Mulder,” she half protests as he seems to whirl around her. She still has no idea how to proceed. After discarding Scully’s jacket unceremoniously, Mulder looks her in the eye and she knows he was right about their nonverbal communication skills. She softens despite herself and raises her glass.

“A toast to the power of team building?”

Mulder smiles, goes straight for the bottle, and meets her glass with a clink. “To consorting in motel rooms and breaking policy,” he says with a smirk, and she’s hooked.

They spend the next hour growing louder and louder with each glass and genuinely attempting a furniture tower. Scully feels a warmth spread throughout her body when he’s behind her, pressed into her while he uses his height to take the coffee maker from her hands to add to the tower. She coughs for his attention, and he looks down and laughs. Wordlessly, he lifts her up and she places the coffee maker on top of the tower herself. When he sets her down, he’s like a puppy, grinning from ear to ear.

“We did it! Behold,” he declares triumphantly to his invisible audience, “the greatest motel furniture tower in all of Western Florida!”

Mulder is beaming at her, his grin as infectious as ever, when the mood shifts. Scully doesn’t know if it’s the wine or that look in his eye, but she’s suddenly tingly all over.

He lowers his voice. “I couldn’t have done it alone. Any of it. And I wouldn’t want to be out there with anyone but you, Scully.” He lays a hand on her arm and uses the other to gently push a piece of hair behind her ear. Tracing the curve of her elbow, he takes hold of her hand, and her heart nearly beats out of her chest. He’s stepping closer, eyes locked on hers, inquiring, asking permission. She doesn’t have to say anything.

He kisses her, ever so gently. Testing the waters. He pulls back, and she smiles, pulling him back in by the hips. Her hand is on the back of his neck and his lips are pressed against hers when the world falls apart. After all that building, the furniture tower crashes down.

Scully had been leaning against the chair, which had been stacked on top of the couch, which held above it an end table, a suitcase holder, and that coffee maker. With a bang loud enough to wake whatever monster Mulder thought there to be in their vicinity, it all tumbles down the side of the couch.

Mulder jumps and Scully’s hands fly to her mouth. They both look at the wreckage, then back at each other. Then suddenly, before the thoughts of damages, reports, expenses, and explanations could even cross their minds, they were laughing. They were laughing like they laughed in the rain that very first case, like nothing else in the world mattered but the absurdity of it all and sharing it with one another. Mulder doubles over and Scully snorts, which only made Mulder laugh more.

She sits on the bed to catch her breath, and when Mulder sits beside her, she leans into his shoulder.

“Maybe we needed that conference after all,” she muses. He turns her chin up towards him and shakes his head.

“At the conference I wouldn’t be able to do this,” he whispers, kissing her lightly again. She rests a hand on his thigh and leans into the kiss. Her rational mind chimes in. She’s not sure now’s the time. There’s a mound of furniture and calls to make and apparently, according to Mulder, a case to investigate. She grudgingly pulls away, meets his confused face with a soft smile. “No, we never needed that conference.”

When they finish picking up their fallen tower and Scully collects her jacket, she stands hesitant to leave in his doorway. She realizes something. “Hey Mulder–what was it were you going to check out before?”

His eyes light up and he grabs his coat.

“Well actually, I was thinking of heading over to the Asekoff house. I have a theory…”

His hand was on the small of her back, urging them out the door before she knew it.

Scully wasn’t sure what she’d wanted from tonight, but she believes she got it.


End file.
